MERMAIDS SINGING UNDER THE MOONS
Out of breathe, when I walk my granddaughter back,
She races fast; I can’t keep up her pace, my joints crack.
I shoulder her heavy bag, with an umbrella, she air drifts,
I grasp for speed to caution and call her to down shifts.
The clock tick tock loud, my heart jumps out of the chest,
She stops at the junction, from afar I see, and safe to rest.
The battery has yet to expire, no flashing of past memory,
No fairies, visitation and tunnel light before last sip of cherry.
At seventy, I measure life with morning coffee, not the spoons,
Do I dare to have mermaids come and go under the moons?